


The Assassin's Apprentice

by wellthizizdeprezzing



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-06-09 11:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15266715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wellthizizdeprezzing/pseuds/wellthizizdeprezzing
Summary: Widowmaker is a master assassin, feared for her prodigious skills and lack of empathy for her targets. Recently she has been employed into training the newest generation of Talon assassins her fearsome skills. But one of her students is entirely different from the rest. Lena is bubbly, innocent, and completely in love with Widowmaker. Slight AU.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting this from my FFNet account. Will update this in accordance to my updates there.

Amelie LaCroix was easily Talon's most valuable asset.

And the most feared.

She didn't become the top assassin by pulling her punches, or shots more accurately. She did it by being ruthless, meticulous, and dedicated to the cause. And what cause was that? She couldn't really recall anymore, all the years of blood and bullets and splattered brains crowding her mind until she could no longer tell what had been her motivation for becoming an assassin. Maybe it had had to do with Talon's goal of worldwide cleansing, in wiping away the scum of earth and making the world a better place for the powerless? Or maybe it had something to do with her dead husband? And revenge for him...?

It was hard to tell what she longed to fight for when she did not feel anything anymore. She had locked her emotions away, had forced herself to become cold and calculating, so that she would not become distracted in her missions. So that she wouldn't fail. Even the success of the kill, of a job well done, did not bring her any joy. She had become so detached that often times she was likened as a robot by jealous colleagues as an insult. The insults of course did not bother her. Nothing did anymore.

Not even pain. She'd gotten shot before once or twice, and it wasn't until someone pointed out to her that she was bleeding that she looked down and noticed the bullet hole. Only then did it hurt, but only if she let it.

She almost regretted losing her emotions. Almost. For she knew she should feel regret over this, but she couldn't.

And it was this lack of emotion that made her widely feared, along with her skills. She did not hesitate to make a kill, did not let last minute human compassion get in her way. It hadn't been easy to cut off her emotions like that at first, but then it had become almost second nature, until it was her nature. With no human passions only logic to guide her, she was able to trap her enemies. To lay a web so tightly bound that anyone who strayed into it would be prey for her, whether they were the intended target or not.

And for even those who were her targets, they would never suspect her because she wove twisted and tangled webs that would draw the prey closer to her without them even knowing until she finally struck and they found themselves on the other end of her sniper rifle. It was this technique that earned her her assassin's name, Widowmaker.

That and the fact that she often left her target's spouses widows.

Enemies were scared of her, fearing the day they would fall under the widow's mark, and allies were worried to piss her off, concerned a similar fate awaited them. It was hard for her to end up working with anyone on missions, as they were simply too nervous around her, worried she would snap their neck if they messed up. They were all fools. She didn't care enough to bother snapping their necks. Unless it wasn't an order, she would never take anyone else's life.

Already she had lost track of how many people she had killed, the numbers and missions all turning into a blur. Not that she would really care to remember. One shouldn't remember such unpleasant things. So it was hard to tell which missions it was when Talon requested her to do something else.

"You're taking me off the missions?" Amelie had asked, staring blankly at her supervisor, a balding middle aged man who squirmed uncomfortably in his seat from across the desk. He knew Amelie presented no danger to him- she wouldn't kill without orders- but there was a dark energy around her, a sort of deathly calm that said she could just as easily kill a man as go out for brunch and still her tonal inflection and overall affect would be the same. It was hard to know what she felt, if she even felt anything, the rumors about her supposed emotional cut off not really rumors to him. Despite knowing she couldn't get angry, not really, he still feared upsetting her.

"Yes," he answered at last, willing himself to appear more in control. He was the man in charge here. He could order her to be killed and it would be done in a blink of an eye. She could also kill you in the blink of an eye, his subconscious reminded him, and he tried to avoid that train of thought.

"Am I lacking in any manner?" She asked curiously, her eyes never wavering off of him. He had to pull out a handkerchief to wipe his forehead.

"No, not because you are lacking." There was no way this woman was lacking, in either skills or looks. She had long supple limbs, sculpted to perfection by many hours of vigorous training. Her figure was like an hourglass, curves almost impossible to hide not that she tried to, instead wearing an insanely skin tight body suit with the front unzipped just a bit too much to be modest, revealing the start of a wonderful cleavage. Her face too was a work of art, full lips, high cheekbones, and gorgeously formed eyebrows set over mesmerizing eyes. Those orbs had the power to draw anyone in, they were like those you could just drown in. It was a shame they were cold, barring entry, scaring away people instead.

It was a real waste, because paired with her French accent and long purple black hair, she was the stuff of fantasizes. He could just imagine her showing up in a French maid outfit and...ehem, seemed like he was getting a bit distracted there. The man cleared his throat and continued speaking, Amelie having waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts. It seemed people had to do that a lot about her. She wondered if it had to do with her intimidating presence.

"Instead, it is because you are too valuable to us. You've become a number one target for over a dozen companies, keyed in as the crucial wheel that runs Talon's projects. Especially given the Florida fiasco." He opened up his drawer and slid some papers over to her. The assassin took them and read over the words printed there quickly. She did not like what she was reading one bit. It appeared that because of her successful take down of not one but three druglords in Florida, effectively ruining the drug trade there for decades to come, she had started a chain reaction that made several drug gangs connected to the bigger ones, actively seek for her. Somehow they connected the murders to her and there was no way she could transverse the underworld safely now.

But how had they known it was her? She was always so careful. Was she getting old? Losing touch? She had been in the game for ten years at this point, and most assassins reached their expiration date by year five, either due to their own carelessness or the company letting them go.

The man gave her some time to digest before he continued. "With that many targets on your back, on top of the other usual rewards for your head from other agencies, and the government, we figured it would be best if you were to do something else for a while. Take a step back from the shadows you thrive in and take on a different job, a different sort of persona."

"You are retiring me? Is it because of a sloppy little mistake? I admit I do not usually make mistakes, and that perhaps I am getting a bit too old-"

"Nonsense, my dear Amelie," the man rushed to get out. "Like I stated previously you are an invaluable asset to Talon and we have no reason to let you go. The only reason that the gangs found out it was you was because of an information leak that was not anywhere close to being your fault. While we don't know who it is, as they left no trace behind, we do know that we cannot continue letting them target you because of how important you are to us and have thus decided we need you off the field and somewhere safer. But do not worry. We have our best men working on finding this mysterious hacker so that you can continue this job."

Amelie nodded her head minutely. "So then what would you have me do?" It was a relief to hear she wasn't losing this job. It was all that she had come to know. It was her life now whether she liked it or not.

"The superiors decided we needed to invest in more assassin's if we are to ever truly get rid of all the evil in this world. Therefore they asked me to hand that torch down to you." The man smiled at her, hoping she would like the idea.

"You want me...to train youngsters in the way of killing?" It almost sounded like the assassin was amused. So maybe she did have some emotion when she was off the field.

"Yes. The pay would still be good, maybe not as good as hit missions, but you would be safer, hidden away in a specially designed facility to house the new assassin apprenticeship program. Plus, there's a flood of new perks that comes with the job offer. So, what do you say Amelie? Will you do it? Will you head the next generation of assassins to come?" The man could tell he was sweating again, but he didn't dare break eye contact with the female assassin, hoping she would take this offer. It was a great one. And if she didn't take it, there wasn't much alternative to give her, other than to send her on a paid vacation somewhere warm. Undoubtedly she would hate that option. The woman loved working.

Amelie placed the papers in her hand back down onto the table. Working as a teacher...for future assassins. That did not sound half as bad. It would be amusing to have a small army of underlings working for her. To shape them up to her image.

"I suppose I can take the offer," she said slowly, watching her supervisor's face break out into a smile.

"They couldn't ask for a better instructor than you."


	2. Lena

_French words are in italics. They're pretty similar to their English counterparts so I didn't include translations._

It had been two years since Amelie had become the head teacher of Talon's newest plan: training young students in the way of being an assassin. She'd had her fair share of successes and failures with her work in getting ready assassins that would survive longer than three months on the field and be suitable at it.

Over the course of her teaching she had met many types of students. Those who were vicious and ready to shed blood in this cut throat world, reveling and enjoying the violence they could cause.

Had met those who were only here to make money because they couldn't elsewhere, and who had to swallow down the bile that rose to their lips as they pulled the trigger or plunged the knife; learning to eradicate emotion for a handful of bills.

Had met those who were here only to learn professionally, who wanted to enhance their repertoire of murder, to perfect it into an art.

And then there was Lena.

She was the most unassassinlike person Widowmaker had ever met in all her years. For the life of her she couldn't fathom what a girl like Lena was doing here in the underbelly of Talon. Lena was bright and cheery and she didn't seem capable of murder. She was more suited for being a hero, for rescuing victims away from Widowmaker's crosshair's. Yet, the brunette was here, working hard to learn the trade of death. And Widowmaker couldn't figure her out.

The girl wasn't even good at it. In fact, she was horrid. She was clumsy, fumbled with reassembling her weapons, and struggled with being quiet when sneaking into places. But it was her optimism, will to go on, and try hard attitude that kept her in the class, otherwise Amelie would have long dropped her.

All of Widowmaker's other students- all three of them for it was best to teach in small classes- were well suited. Greg liked killing, Nina wanted revenge for her father who had been killed by the mafia, and Salem was in it for the cash. They were here for the usual reasons, but Lena...well Amelie didn't know why she was doing this.

The curiosity to ask burned in her and one day she couldn't help from asking. This was during a break in between sparring lessons. Close hand to hand combat was a necessity as an assassin for who knew when a plan might be foiled and the only way out was to fight tooth and nail literally. While Greg and the two other girls were chatting off to the side, wiping down their sweat and fantasizing how these new skills they had learned would come in handy, Lena was off by herself, chugging down some water.

Another thing was that for someone such as Lena, who loved talking and could not shut up between lessons, she didn't actually spend much time with the other assassins, opting to be by herself.

"Good job today," Amelie had praised. She knew how important it was to give feedback to her students in order to keep them going. She could be cruel and cold if she wanted to but found results were more easily gained if warm words were uttered.

"Thank you," Lena smiled, looking a tad surprised that Amelie had approached her. "I'm glad I finally got it. I must say, I don't think I'll ever completely get the moves like you do. You've got more grace than me, love." Her British tones were familiar as was her phrasing, but Amelie could not place where she had heard them before. The familiarity tickled in her head, itching to be solved. It was just another thing about Lena that she didn't understand. Another mystery to this otherwise seemingly straightforward girl.

"Not everyone's assassination style needs be the same. Otherwise we assassins would become too predictable. Worry not, we'll find the right style for you."

"I'm excited to hear that. I've been worried that I'm lagging behind in my learning." At least Lena was admitting to that openly. She had a tendency to hesitate before each trigger pull. Her knife cuts were never deep enough, and when throwing fists, she always aimed for the least amount of damage.

Amelie often wondered how Lena had gotten through the rigorous screening process to become a student of hers. But the agency must have seen something in Lena, otherwise she wouldn't be here. And Amelie would just have to pull it out from her.

"Yes, well it often helps to keep a goal in mind when training," Amelie edged, drawing herself up to her full height. It helped to intimidate people into answering her. It never seemed to work on Lena however. The brunette only seemed amused by the action, like she did now, her warm eyes sliding over Amelie's figure appreciatively. The assassin was used to getting such looks, so she normally didn't mind. Even her students would open mouthedly drool at her until she smacked them to get them to focus, to show them she was more than a piece of meat to stare at. But if Lena was the one doing it...it made Amelie feel nervous? And that was ridiculous concept because Amelie didn't get nervous. She made others feel that way.

"What goal was it that you thought of when you joined this place? What is your reason to kill,  _étudiant_?''

At this Lena's face dropped a bit and she fiddled with the bottle in her hands. ''I...I'm doing it for someone special.''

That was a lackluster answer, but Amelie didn't pry further. She sensed she wouldn't be getting a better answer. ''As long as that goal is enough to fuel you, to get you past the hurdle of your shortcomings, that is good. But it seems to me like it is lacking resolve. Mayperhaps you should pick another goal? One which might serve as a better incentive.''

Lena's eyes got wide at this, digesting her teacher's words. Something akin to anger grew there. ''My goal is enough for me. It has driven me this far. It has forced me to disregard what others have told me, what they think is best for me. I may have even lost friends because of it. So I'll kindly ask you to reevaluate your opinion.''

Amelie arched a brow at this, not expecting this sort of vehemence in Lena's words. The way she was riled up right now, was exactly the sort of passion she wanted to see on the field. And in training. ''The way you are now, the fires I see burning in your eyes, that is what you lack. Bring that with you next time.''

Lena opened her mouth as if she would say something else but then thought better of it. Instead she nodded her head and asked instead, ''and what drives you? What made you want to be an assassin?''

That was the damn dreaded question Amelie had long forgotten the answer too. But she didn't want her student to know that, didn't want to appear weak before her. So she reiterated something she had heard frightened enemies of Talon say. ''I was born an assassin.'' And with that she swiveled on her heel. ''Students, class is back in session!''

* * *

Two months with this particular class had passed and Lena was still struggling with some of the skills she was being taught. It was only a matter of time before she asked for after class help. "I would very appreciate it love, if you could teach me outside of class," she had said after class had ended one day. She had gotten her butt handed to her by Greg in one on one combat.

"I don't see how I should be punished by your failures and spend my free afternoons teaching you," Amelie had said coldly, already packing up her duffel bag and ready to hit the showers to clean up all the sweat practice had garnered.

''Well, but don't you want to see me succeed? You'd feel bad if I was just straight up killed on the field on my first day out."

''Don't flatter yourself,'' Amelie quipped. "Everyone knows I am a Master Assassin and if you fail, that rests solely on your shoulders, because I have taught you the golden secrets and tricks of the trade. No matter the amount of training, if one is not an assassin at heart, or willing to pretend they are, then not even the best training can save them." Amelie turned on her heel, leaving to her private quarters. But Lena followed after her, trailing with puppy dog eyes.

"Please, will you help? I know you must be busy and have other things to do, but if you truly are a good teacher, than that means you'll dedicate more time to helping me. You'll do  _anything_  to help me succeed. Even outside the class."

Amelie sighed out. But she did not stop in her walking, long legs taking her further away from Lena. But the shorter woman only began to jog to keep up with her.

"Please? Pleasepleaseplease?" Lena whined. "You're so cool and amazing and awe inspiring that I know if you spend some more one on one time with me I'll become totally spectacular like you."

"Don't flatter me," Amelie grunted out. She'd heard thousands of people sing her praise but for some reason the combination of Lena's puppy dog eyes, pouting lips, and penchant for blunt honesty was getting to her.

"But it's the truth."

"You'll never be as good as me," Amelie said sharply, hoping to dash all of Lena's hopes in order to get her to go away.

"You won't know until you give me a chance."

Amelie stopped in her walking and turned to face Lena, the shorter woman almost bumping into her. "I've been giving you a chance for these past months and I have yet to see improvement. Your teammates are almost ready to go out onto the field yet you are not."

"Maybe I work better alone, with only you?" Lena states, and there is something coy living in her eyes.

Amelie stares at her, trying to get a read on this new tone of voice, but when she draws a blank, she shakes her head. "Fine then. Come with me. We'll have a sparring session but only for half an hour."

"Yay!" Lena squeals and opens up her arms to hug Amelie in her joy. The assassin doesn't see it as a hug but as a threat and dropping her duffel bag to free up her hands, she grabs Lena by the wrist. Twisting her own body, she slings the weight of the brunette girl over her shoulder by that wrist and onto the floor, Lena's breath knocked out of her lungs and eyes wide in shock.

"I was only going to hug you!" Lena exclaims when she realizes what has happened.

"I thought you were going to harm me," Amelie explains with no hint of apology on her lips. "You should never make sudden moves around me."

"I'll remember that for next time," Lena grumbles as she gets up, rubbing her hurt back.

"There won't be a next time," Amelie is serious. "You will  _not_  hug me." Then she picked her bag back up and went to the small gym where the two of them could spar together.

She worked on quickly instructing Lena how best to defend herself. There was no point in picking fights if one couldn't do the basics and protect oneself before beating the life out of the opponent.

To her surprise the shorter woman was able to pick it up quite quickly. She had the moves mastered in matters of seconds; true to her words she did work better one on one. Amelie found that odd, and suspicious.

"You suddenly seemed to have improved," she said slowly, as she and Lena circled around on another on the mats like lions, waiting to pounce.

"I told you that I work better one on one. Less distractions; less people to take up your attentions."

"You cannot expect to have my full attention all the time. It is not  _juste_  to the other students." Amelie stepped into the space between them and swung a leg out. Lena ducked under it, coming up behind Amelie, but the blue skinned woman was prepared. She dropped her foot and ducked down into a squat just as Lena punched the air where she had been seconds ago. Then, still in her squat, she swept her foot out in a circle around her, almost sweeping Lena off of her feet. The woman's speeds had improved considerably. She was able to jump up, kicking up at Amelie's face. The assassin lifted her arms up to block, rolling with the impact onto her back and gracefully rising up to her feet, one leg extended straight out behind her like someone was pulling it up by a string as she rocked back onto it.

"You look like a ballerina when you fight," Lena said in admiration, cheeks strained by her smile.

"One must know how to dance, when they dance with death everyday," she said simply.

"But why ballet?" They had gone back to circling one another.

Amelie didn't know. It just seemed like something natural to her. "I guess I simply enjoy the  _élégance_  of it."

"I had a friend once, who also loved ballet. She would drag me to shows to watch it, and she would read up on books on it to be more learned. She danced it too; she was very good at it."

Amelie doesn't care much for chatter like this. She only cares for her work, for doing her job. Not for learning about other people. Yet her lips don't seem to follow her command. They mold themselves into words and she finds herself asking,"and what happened to her?"

Lena grows sad at this. "She's gone. Kidnapped away."

"Was it Overwatch?" Amelie asks. "They have done much harm to this world. Have ripped families apart, have stolen lives, have spread chaos and disaster."

Lena's face is impassive at this. "Do you really think that?"

"Yes, otherwise why would I have joined Talon. Talon is good, wiping the world of such filth among others." They start sparring again, this time even faster. Amelie uses her graceful movements to spin out of the way of Lena's more aggressive strikes. She notices the brunette's style of fighting is light and fast; sporadic and meant to keep the opponent on their toes. Lena bounces from toe to her heel, never having her full weight on the ground. It makes it harder for her to put full force into her punches. But she insists on spinning around the opponent, irritating them with her teasing light hits, until she confuses them so that she is able to plant her full weight onto the ground and finally let loose.

The upper cut she sends Amelie's way has the French woman's head jerking up as the rest of her body runs on autopilot and tries to steer her away from danger. Her hands go up to block and she avoids getting a full kick to her gut. Still, she's stumbling back and opts to roll onto her back to avoid Lena's questing hands and legs and to get a fresh start.

"Is that the only reason you joined Talon?" Lena asks and there is carefully arranged anger there, along with curisoty.

"Have you not heard?" Amelie says coolly, wiping the dribble of blood coming down her split lip. She just got hit by Lena, one of her worst students. She doesn't know whether to let her ego be hurt, or to be prideful of her student. She settles on neither. Emotion is bad.

"Heard what?" Lena is coming back at her. Her legs are a menace. Amelie needs to watch out for them.

Somehow along the way this turned from a simple sparring match into something more intense, into not teaching but actually fighting for the sake of proving something. Amelie doesn't know what she wants to prove. "The tale is quite common. Overwatch murdered my husband. So I intend to murder them."

"And has murdering Overwatch members made you feel better?"

Amelie narrows her eyes and avoids Lena's high kick. "What is it with all these questions? Are we soul searching today?"

"I'm just curious about you." Lena shrugs and the assassin sees an opening.

She knocks Lena off balance and the brunette ends up on the ground, with Amelie pinning her under her long body. "I would be careful with that.  _La curiosité a tué le chat._ " She whispers, in a tone she reserves for her victims right before she makes her killing strike.

But Lena doesn't look scared under her, only like she's been there many times before; like she's comfortable there. "Yea, I know love," she says. "Curiosity killed the cat."

Amelie is a bit taken aback that Lena knows french. "You speak French?" No where in the records handed down to her by Talon did it say Lena could speak the language. "Where did you learn it?"

"Careful," Lena warns playfully as Amelie relents and lets the woman back up. " _La curiosité a tué le chat_ ," she throws Amelie's own words back at her before striding over to the door. "Thanks for the session. I'll see you in class tomorrow,  _i_ _nstructeur_." She closes the door on the way out and Amelie is left to contemplate many things, the most noticeable one being how easy and natural it had felt to fight together, like they had sparred together before. There was just this simplicity to it, this sense of right.

She shakes her head to dispel her unease and goes to shower.


	3. Helping

For some reason or another the training sessions after class continued. Lena found this or that excuse to have Amelie train her separately and the blue skinned woman found it interestingly harder to say no to her. She found herself being worn down by the warm bubbly brunette. Let Amelie come face to face with enemy spies, with a speeding car, or a knife hurtling her way, and she'd handle it with no sweat. But Lena's puppy dog eyes and stubborn attitude? No way. She'd rather take a bullet than have to subject herself to it.

Amelie didn't like it that she had a weakness; she wasn't supposed to have one. And even if she did, she would have expected it to be poison, or a gun wound that would do her in. But it was Lena's sweet looks and even sweeter personality. Amelie had tried to avoid her at first, but one couldn't ignore their student, especially if Amelie was expected to sharpen her into a deadly weapon. So, Amelie would treat her normally in class, and then book it out of there, using smoke screens, trap doors, and even hidden wires, to pull her ass out of the fat and disappear her to her favorite hidden spots. And still Lena would find her.

It was mind boggling. And suspicious.

Amelie couldn't discard the notion that Lena knew something about her. And that was dangerous. Amelie couldn't have a student possibly know personal information about her.

So she'd gone to the head of the program, storming into the director's office even as he was in the middle of a meeting.

"Widowmaker!" he jumped out of his seat like he'd seen death coming for him, and in a way it had.

"A word,  _réalisateur_ ," she spat, and the man the director had been speaking to, scrambled out of his seat quickly to give it up to her.

"I'll talk to you later," he made out, before rushing out cowardly.

"Amelie, what brings you in today-" the director straightened his tie and tried to act more confident.

"She does," she slapped a paper onto the desk, the head shot of Lena. It was such a 'her' photo, with her smiling widely at the camera, short hair windswept in casual disarray and eyes twinkling with innocent joy.

"Lena Oxton?" he said, sitting down after his heart finally calmed down from how she had barged in and slapped the paper down loudly. He took it from her. "Isn't she a student of yours?"

"Yes," Amelie said crisply. "That is why I'm coming to talk to you about removing her from my tutelage. And from this institution in general."

His brows knit in confusion. "But she had outstanding scores on her preliminary tests. And showed the most potential for growth."

"Unfortunately, that potential has died and she is lagging behind in all her classes greatly. Not to mention, I believe she knows personal information about me."

His brows shot up now. "That's impossible. How would she know personal information about you?" Only the heads of Talon knew and even what they had on her was sparse, just the bare bones and meat.

This would be harder to prove but Amelie believed she could pull it off if she showed the director enough proof. "Currently, she has been going out of her way to come to me after class for extra help."

"And how is that a problem? You are supposed to be providing students support."

Amelie's lip corners turned down. She felt like she had been scolded; like she had done something bad. She hated displeasing her bosses.

"Not to say that you aren't a great teacher or anything, but that the commitment doesn't end when you are not in the classroom," he hastily added. He knew Widowmaker was loyal to Talon, but still, his heart automatically pumped harder at her appearance and he felt the urge to duck under cover and keep ten feet away from her at all times.

"Noted." Amelie would make sure to dedicate some outside class time to her student. "But prior to her arrival here, no other student needed my help outside the classroom. And she is very persistent about it. When I took to avoiding her, and even going to other spots around the facility which are secret to others but not to me, she would find her way there."

Amelie thought back to the first incident. She had been hiding in a small alcove with a chair and table that was in the more boring parts of the building. The parts that no one would visit for it was out of the way of the more important parts. The loud plodding of sneakers on the floor alerted Amelie to the British woman's presence.

There was only one way out of this spot and it was the way Lena was coming so the assassin stayed put, bookmarking the book she had been reading with a small knife. "You are terrible at sneaking up on others."

"I wasn't trying to sneak up on you." Lena plopped down loudly in front of Amelie on the spare chair and kicked her feet up on the table.

Widowmaker could never imagine Lena as an assassin; she was too loud, and filled any room she came into with her presence. She would be spotted easily and taken out on the field.

"Whats that book you're reading?" Lena asked, tipping her head. When Amelie said nothing she continued talking. " _Le Petit Prince._  Quite a famous book. One of my favorite quotes in it is o _n ne voit clairement qu'avec le coeur. L'essentiel est invisible à l'oeil_."

_One sees clearly only with the heart. The essential is invisible to the eye_

Amelie whispers the words back to herself, feeling the fleeting touch of something, like the ghost of a...sentiment? Of a memory? She unconsciously leans forward as if getting closer to Lena will strengthen the reception of the sensation.

"One of my close friends read that same book. She loved it, would read some of it to me out loud. Said it spoke to her on a spiritual level; that it had very important ideas and realizations about relationships.." Lena's eyes are intent on her. Amelie feels like the brunette is drilling these words into her, trying to dig under her exterior.

"Is it the same friend who loved ballet?"

Lena nodded her head, a slightly sad look on her face. "Yea..."

"I'm going to guess and say that she is the reason why you took upon this ill fitted path." Amelie got up, suddenly feeling like to continue reading the book would now be too much of an emotional event. She didn't know why.

"Yes," Lena says more resolutely.

"Give it up," Amelie says suddenly because she doesn't like how Lena makes her feel; like she is being examined under a microscope for cracks and tears in her skin; little imperfections in her armor where she can be weakened by. "You are not good at it. You lack the intent to hurt others, and no matter how often you ask me to train you outside of class I will not for it is a waste of my time when you do not have the potential." Then Amelie got up, striding away confidently.

There, she should have put Lena in her place.

But the brunette was not undeterred. She kept seeking Amelie out, going even in so far as to find her on the roof of the facility.

Amelie had a loving relationship with roofs.

Not many dared to get this high for it was dangerous to do so. Falling down from such heights was deadly. But Amelie didn't mind. She liked being high up, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, soaring above vulnerable heads on her wires, weightless. She felt truly free than. Felt above all her issues and problems. Up in the air, it was only her and the wind and the cool moon on her face.

Those who had the high ground did win, after all, and very few expected an attack coming from above, too focused on the hustle and bustle happening around them. On planting one foot than the other on the heavy earth that sucked one down like the biggest chain of them all.

In the air, on those buildings, she wasn't subjected to that. She didn't have to worry about bumping into anyone, for the sky was hers and hers alone.

Right now she was overlooking the wilds surrounding the complex at night, the gentle sway of pine trees in the wind, the howl of wolves. It was cold but she didn't feel it, for her skin was cold already, her circulation sluggish to prevent bleeding out when hurt.

Lena had to bundle herself up before she came up.

"Lovely night, innit?"

Amelie let out a tired sigh, her exhale curling up like dragon smoke from an irritated dragon. "What do you want?"

"I want you to train me," Lena said simply, coming up to the railing by Amelie but five feet away. Smart. Otherwise Amelie would have been tempted to hurl the woman over.

"I already do in class," Amelie said in a flat voice.

"You know what I mean."

Amelie didn't say anything so Lena bent down and began to pack some snow together. It had fallen in a thin layer onto the roof and it was still too cold for it to melt.

Amelie was tempted to ask what the inane woman was doing now, but held her tongue. She ducked down a second later when a snowball went hurling over her head, her special senses alerting her seconds before Lena even threw the snow. "Are you really going to have a snowball fight? How  _puéril_." She scoffs.

"I'm not being childish, just trying to loosen you up."

When Amelie dodges the second ball without so much as sparing a glance the British woman's way, Lena huffs. "You're no fun, you know that?"

"I didn't come out here for fun, but for peace."

"Oh, I get it," Lena says loudly.

"Do you now?" Amelie highly doubted that.

"You may be a master assassin but you suck at snowball fights."

Amelie whips her head around sharply. "Excuse-moi?"

Lena waggles her brows gloatingly. "You heard me. Talon's most feared, fearful of losing to me, a rookie, in a game of snowball."

"As if I would lose."

"Then prove it," was the taunt.

"I do not have to prove anything to you."

"I'm not going to leave until you do."

"Then I will ignore you," Amelie juts up her shoulder stubbornly and turns on her heel indifferently.

"You can try, but you won't suceed."

Amelie can sense Lena trying to creep up on her, if the crunch of her shoes on snow didn't give her away first, or her short bursts of giggles. Before she can grab the assassin's shoulder, Amelie twirls around and sticks out a hand to Lena's shoulder, other hand grabbing her outstretched arm. Holding that arm tight, she pushes against the shoulder, sweeping under with a foot, and Lena finds herself on the floor, one arm squashed between her and her back.

She wiggles that one free and tosses the captured snow she had in it. Amelie lets her head move to the side, some of the spray of the snow fluttering into her lashes and she blinks to dislodge it, that slight distraction allowing Lena to snake up one of her legs and use her newly freed hand to latch onto Amelie's neck. She switches their positions, and Amelie finds herself under the shorter woman.

"I was aiming more for a snowball fight, but I suppose if you wanna roll around in the snow, that's fine with me too." She cheers, too smug in her victory.

Amelie is suddenly feeling competitive- the fact that Lena switched their positions too quickly irking her. She wants to prove to Lena that she cannot be bested like this, even in a snowball fight.

"Very well, I will take your challenge."

"Really?" Lena is delighted by this. "What's the prize?"

"Victory. Winning is a reward in itself."

"Alright there, miss I need to win to be happy," Lena said as she got up. Amelie got up without her help, ignoring the offered up hand.

"Winning becomes the difference between life or death on the field. Don't forget that."

"I won't." But Lena's too cheery to be thinking about such advice and she dives into the snowball fight purely to have fun. Amelie dives in to win, and to school Lena.

It doesn't happen because they run out of snow on the roof top, neither having won a clear victory. Throughout the duration of it, Amelie found she stopped caring so much about winning, and more about seeing Lena laugh as she pounded her with deadly accuracy with snow projectiles.

"Even a dead-shot without the gun," Lena had praised.

"Even a deadbeat when it doesn't come to weapons," Amelie quipped back, her cheeks lightly flushed from the exertion.

Lena just smiles and smiles.

The third time Lena hunted Amelie down, Amelie knew this was more than just luck, or talent. Lena seemed to have a second sense for finding the assassin, and it was really starting to confuse and worry her.

She'd been sitting up in one of the air ducts larger chamber, reading a book with a book light, and hoping that the thudding in the vents wasn't Lena. But...it was.

"How do you keep finding me?" she hissed out, surprisingly an exiting Lena with a knife to her throat.

Lena let out a surprised yelp and stopped moving or else she risked ripping her neck open.

"My..m-my friend has the same habits as you. Wh-when she would want to get away from people she would go to high places, or sit in small spaces. She said both calmed her, let her be away from people and from the ground. Let her 'soar high' as she would put it, but without the wings." Her eyes went glassy, like she was looking on into the distance with something akin to fondness and warmth in her eyes.

Amelie stared Lena down. That wording and sentiment was so close to her own...it was discerning. She normally didn't let her curiosity get in the way of a kill but there was something about Lena that demanded her to know more. She reluctantly pulled the blade back and crawled to her spot. Plus, she couldn't take measures against Lena. She would have to speak to her higher ups if she wanted to neutralize her. She never went against the director's orders.

"Are you letting me stay?" Lena asked, taken aback by this.

"Sure, why not. Clearly I cannot avoid you."

"That's great!" Lena's boisterous cry echoed around the chamber and Amelie wondered if anyone could hear them right now. "I brought coffee."

"I could tell."

"Wow, you really are a master assassin!" Lena exclaimed as she wiggled over to Widowmaker, digging out two canisters from the knapsack on her back.

"It doesn't take being an assassin to smell the coffee. Which has spilled," Amelie said dryly.

"Oh bugger and bollucks," Lena cursed, looking in dismay at the brown stain on her bag. "I just got this bag." Sighing softly she handed one canister to Amelie and took the leaky one for herself.

Amelie took it, and relished the feel of warmth on her cold palm. She didn't drink it, merely opened it to smell the French Vanilla wafting up to her. This was one of her favorites flavors. Lena knew. Of course she knew. Amelie didn't comment on it this time, deciding she would go speak to her directory tomorrow and get this issue resolved as quickly as possible.

They sat in relative darkness and silence before Lena broke it. "So...you come here often?"

 _Merde, was that a pickup line?_  Amelie thought in wry amusement. "You know I do, why ask."

"Just trying to make talk," Lena shrugged and took a sip of her coffee, wincing when it was too hot to consume.

"Assassins don't talk. It leads to distraction; it creates noise. Assassins's are silent and must hold their conversations through the weapons they wield. Let the way you cut down with your knife show your anger, let the glint of your gun instill fear. Murder is music; it is another language."

Lena watched with wide eyes as Amelie spoke, entranced by the tones of her voice and that French Accent. "I didn't come here for a lesson."

"I thought the whole point of you bothering me was so you can get extra lessons."

"I just wanted to talk with you. Here." Lena shrugs again and Amelie can make out a small blush on her cheeks.

If she wanted to talk, then Amelie would give her a topic. Mainly about that friend. Amelie wanted to know more about her- and why she reminded Lena so much of Widowmaker. Something told her there was more to the relationship.

"She wasn't a friend, was she?" Amelie let her head hit the back of the vent, warm coffee in her hand.

Lena's lips twist up in a weird expression- half joy, half sadness. "No, she was more than that. She was special to me. And she still is."

Amelie finds herself shaking at the conviction in the younger woman's voice. "But you do not even know where she is. She could be gone forever, or not want anything to do with you." Her voice doesn't shake, thankfully.

Lena shakes her head, looks down pensively at the floor. "I know she's alive. I know she is out there. And even if she claims to hate me now...even if she somehow doesn't remember me, I will fight to get to her because I love her."

A sober quiet falls onto them and they sit there, listening to the soft hum of the ventilation system. Predictably, Lena breaks the silence, unable to keep the quiet. "You're crying," she says gently.

"I'm what?" Amelie touches her cheeks and indeed her fingers come back wet. What is going on? She stares at it, in shock. She can't remember the last time she cried. Her husband's death certainly, but that had been 12 years ago as of this day.

"Are you okay?"

Amelie doesn't know what to say. On the inside she feels panic, feels like screaming that no she isn't okay. That this isn't supposed to happen. She wants to run to her doctors, tell them to fix her, to give a sedative, anything to keep from feeling. But instead she smiles as a calm starts to infuse her. It has to do with how Lena cradles her chin with her hand and looks on with genuine concern in her eyes. A killer doesn't deserve such compassion but here Lena is, giving it anyways, like she is bursting with compassion and love and adoration for anyone no matter who they are.

"Yes, I'm okay."

Amelie omitted the part about crying, in fact, she omitted the parts in which she felt any emotion at all, in her information relay to her director. But despite all this evidence, the man did not seem convinced.

"It seems to me like Lena is very observant." He smiled at her. "And like she has a bit of crush on you and wants to make a good impression." He stood up from his seat, waiting to walk her out. "It wouldn't be the first time you've enchanted someone."

Amelie's concerns had been dismissed. This conversation was over.

"Do try not to worry. That is the screeners job. They wouldn't have allowed Lena in if they felt she was a danger. Surely, you've read her files, you know her backstory."

Amelie nodded her head, trying hard to swallow her dissatisfaction. "Yes, orphaned at a young age, she resorted to street theft and petty crime to get along and to provide for a gang of younger homeless kids she considered her family. Until the war caused by Overwatch tore them all apart, killing all but her. And now she wants revenge." But that's not what Lena told her. She'd said she was doing it for a friend-well, romantic interest. Were the kids a lie, or was the romantic interest? Or maybe it was that the romantic interest had been one of the kids?

Amelie didn't know, but suddenly she burned with curiosity to know more.

"Train her, and give her additional help after hours if she requires it," the director added and opened the door for her. And because Amelie had no choice but to obey, she would.

The training sessions between her and Lena would eventually uncover secrets and feelings, things that were best left buried; and things that needed to be unearthed, for it was time Widowmaker came to learn the truth about herself.


	4. Amelie

They continue their sparring and conversations after class. Lena has this naturally ability to draw information out of Amelie even if the assassin doesn't mean to divulge anything. Lena learns what Amelie's favorite color is (purple), what books she reads (french dramas), what shows she watches (also french dramas) and what her favorite flower is (an orchid). Lena even learns what Amelie's favorite food is (crepes, kind of obvious and unoriginal but they're really good.) And Amelie finds this infuriating, the way Lena interrogates her so subtly, slipping through the small cracks she was hammering into Amelie's shell. Why does she want to know all this? What purpose does it serve? Is she a spy, placed here to learn all of Amelie's weaknesses?

Amelie confronts her one day, knocking Lena to the ground. It takes considerably more effort to do that than when they had first started but Amelie refuses to admit to that. "Why?" she asks, slightly out of breath and pinning Lena down so tightly to the ground that she cannot escape. Cannot escape Amelie's questions or the heat between them, or the delicious press of their breasts and hips. Not that Lena would ever forfeit this touch.

"Why what?" she asks, also out of breath but that might not only be because of the exercise but also on how tight Amelie's hold is on her throat. In the assassin's dark eyes there gleams a sort of anger.

"Why ask me all these questions?" Amelie spits out, because she's not used to being this open, to having something of her slip through the cracks and bleed out into the air. It makes her vulnerable and for what purpose.

Lena smiles, rueful yet goofy and sappy at the same time. "Because I'm in love with you."

If her words had been a bullet, they would have impacted Amelie right through her heart and killed her. But they are not, so they merely render her useless as if she had been shot. "Quelle?" she stutters out and sits up, relinquishing her hold on Lena's neck.

Lena sits up, tries to catch retreating fingers in her own. "I'm in love with you."

Another bullet piercing Amelie's heart and she rocks back onto her feet, feeling like her heart is breaking, like she is shaking, like she will fall apart. She needs to control this situation. Needs to hide this turmoil inside her that Lena's innocent words have stirred inside her.

"No," she shakes her head, laughs, latches onto an idea and goes with it. "You are misplacing your feelings onto me. You were in love with your friend and now because I am so similar to her, you are taking that love and burdening me with it." And even as Amelie says this, her own words turn into a bullet and pierce her own heart for the third time today. She doesn't know why her own words hurt her so much, why she hates to see Lena distraught.

Lena gets up, looks like a kicked puppy, eyes big and so sad. "I'm not in love with her. But you. That's why I asked you all those questions because when you love someone you want to get to know them more."

"You are not in love with me." Why would Lena ever be in love with her? Lena was too...kind. Too good for Amelie to ever deserve her. And Amelie only loved her husband, had become an assassin to avenge him. So then why did it hurt so much to reject this freely offered love? This love from Lena? This love that felt like it was right but wrong at the same time?

A pain formed behind Amelie's eyes. A sharp stabbing that almost brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them back because she would not show weakness. Couldn't afford to do so.

"Why don't you believe me?" Lena asked softly, looking so so hurt and betrayed.

Amelie grits her teeth, feels an aching in her chest. Why is she feeling? She shouldn't be feeling anything right now. She should be emotionless. Indifferent. "I am an assassin. I am your teacher. And I love my late husband."

"But-"

Amelie cuts her off with a sharp look. "Do not. This is over. You will stop feeling this way for me as of now. There is no time for love and such foolish feelings in our line of work." Her words are so pointed they cut the inside of her mouth as she speaks them, make her tongue drip with blood no one can see.

"Ame-"

"This never happened between us."

That statement crashes heavy on Lena's shoulders which slump. But while her body seems defeated there is an indomitable spark in her eyes. "Je ne m'arrêterai jamais de me battre."

_I will never stop fighting._

"Foolish girl," Amelie spits out. "Cut your losses. Or I will cut you." And there is a knife in her hand, seemingly draw out of nowhere for her gym clothes do not have pockets or afford for space in the way they hug her body skin tight.

The knife glints brightly in the harsh light of the gym and Lena's eyes are trained on it, on the threat in Amelie's words. She stares and stares and then gathers up her things and leaves and only then does Amelie breath easy. Only then does she let the knife fall down to the padded mat with a dull thunk. Only then does she sink down to her knees.

Her head screams in pain as voices swirl in her head.

"I love you," says Lena's voice and though there are no images to accompany her, Amelie knows it is unmistakably Lena's voice. The British tones, the soft caress of words like a warm hug.

"I love you too," Amelie's own voice answers back and it is lighter and happier than Amelie has ever heard it be, but it is undeniably hers. And she wonders what the hell kind of right her voice has to be sounding so positive, so full of unadulterated adoration, and with such words as its jargon.

The pain of the memory is too much and she passes out, hitting the mat face first right next to the knife.

* * *

The sessions after that stop. Amelie is restricted to only seeing Lena in her classes. The brunette is subdued, refuses to meet her instructor's eyes and whenever Amelie fixes something for her, or gives her advice, she merely nods her head silently and doesn't say anything other than what she needs to say.

And Amelie feels...no, it's not a feeling. It can't be a feeling, but it is. And it's an empty one. All this time she's been empty, a vacant wall, impenetrable for anything to get through. But now, she's aware of the emptiness inside her. And she wants it to be filled. And she doesn't know how to do that. All she knows is that Lena had helped her discover it at the same time she had helped her ignore it.

Amelie is tempted to go back to her doctors to resolve this issue, but she figures it will go away on it's own. She figures she is strong enough to get through it. So she focuses on her work, on training her students. Lena's skills have improved but she lacks heart. Every motion is done robotically and with no soul.

And Amelie worries for her despite her trying not to.

Lena is just another student.

Just another face in the crowds of people who had been enamored by Amelie's looks.

But Lena isn't like the others.

She cracked Amelie's hard shell, let the soft flesh of who she was underneath emerge. And now that she helped Amelie recall what she liked and disliked, it's hard to hide those things. It makes Amelie curious about her own self. Makes her want to self discover.

_"Come, tell me what you hate and what you love," Lena urged, a charming grin on her face as she swung her legs back and forth on the railing. They were on the roof again and Lena was sitting like that, not in the least bit worried Amelie could push her right off and kill her. Amelie shifted next to her, body still, enjoying the slightly vertigo feeling looking down from here caused her. The feel of nothing suspending her but her own balance; the risk of falling delicious._

_"I don't...have any hates or loves," she said, because she didn't. She couldn't recall the last time she hated something ardently or loved something just as seriously. She knows she hates Overwatch, the hatred encoded into her head like a computer program. She can't remember a time before hating Overwatch, same as she cannot recall loving anything other than her husband. She is oddly neutral on everything in between._

_"You have to have something. Everyone does."_

_"Hatred and love can get in the way of a kill, so it's best not to have them," Amelie states something her superiors have told her._

_"But we're all human. It's impossible to not feel," Lena said, tipping her head curiously. "For example, I hate rain. It makes the world so...dreary and wet." She wrinkles her nose up at this. "But you could love rain for all I know," she says, a hint of knowing and teasing in her gaze._

_Something clicks deep inside Amelie and she nods her head. "I do love rain." She is astonished at this discovery, at this piece of information that burst out of her, seeming so right. She didn't even know she loved rain. Why? She digs deeper inside herself and the words and feelings find themselves. "It's so...soothing, listening to the patter of it while ensconced comfortably indoors while reading a book. And it washes away the pains of the world."_

_Lena laughed, a gentle little thing, like chiming bells and Amelie has found something else she loves but something she cannot mention. "See, I knew you had it in you. You just have to look inside."_

So Amelie searched inside, long and hard and began to take notes on the things she liked and disliked.

She had a whole moleskin notebook dedicated to it, the column on the left for the likes and the column on the right for the dislikes. She hadn't started too long ago but already the pages were stained with ink, with elegant scribbles running up and down the side.

Likes: coffee, good books, comfy chairs, heights, the wind in my hair...

Dislikes: the heat, bad books, tea, closed spaces...

Those were just some of the discoveries she had made. She was sure there was more to find but it was kind of like shooting in the dark. Each time she went looking inside herself she didn't know what she would dredge up. She was a dark well of knowledge that a bucket would be dropped into. There was no telling what would come up in that bucket until it had finally been pulled up because of how dark and deep the well was and sometimes that bucket could even be empty.

She was afraid one day the well would run dry. What would she do with herself then?

She liked this discovering of herself- of learning new things. Of being human. She hadn't know she had it in her. She had always thought she was...well, boring. Uninteresting. She thought she was just a blank wall. But to her surprise she was a decorated wall. A wall were pictures that weren't as distorted or dark as one would think they would be for her given her profession, would hang up.

And while she went through this period of self discovery, she didn't mention anything to Lena. She hated admitting that Lena was right even if Lena hadn't said anything about this- hadn't had anything to prove. So they went about with the barest of contact until the day of the first assessment came up.

This was a test to see if they would be worthy enough to progress onward. It involved them doing a snipe kill by using wires. They would descend from the skyscraper on them and swing themselves into position before firing the shot into the neighboring skyscraper. The target for now was an automate and programmed robot as opposed to a real person because if the students messed up than it could be potentially dangerous for all of them. Real risks like those would come up later on once they were more skilled.

To prepare for this, Amelie had taught her students the art of rope dancing which was similar enough to using wires. To use wires properly one had to consider them a part of their body. An extension of them and not just a tool.

She could recall their flabbergasted expressions as she swept through the air like she was born of it and not of land. Her movements were fine silk; she was the master of the sky. Greg, Nina's and Salem's expression clearly were amazed by her, eyes glazed over and cheeks flushed and clamoring hungrily to be just like her. They were astonished by the new spectacle in front of them. Wanted to copy it.

But Lena...Lena looked on at Amelie like this wasn't the first time she had seen her do this. Like it was a common sight- common yet just as equally enjoyed and enthralled. And her lips were quirked up, eyes staring right at Amelie. This was the most direct eye contact they had had ever since Lena's failed love confession and Amelie's chest began to heave slightly more, having nothing to do with the exertion of her wire act.

Lena broke eye contact first and strode off, ready to try her own set.

And now here her students were, ready to try their skills out. Nina was first, than Greg, than Lena and finally Salem. Amelie was hooked up to her own set of wires so in case something happened she would swoop in to save her kids.

"You have five minutes to make the kill," she announced. "Points given will be based on skill, speed, accuracy of the kill, if the kill is made, and how well you work on wires. Nina, you are to go first."

Nina nodded her head and got ready, pulling her sniper rifle under her arm as she double checked the wires on the spool around her waist. Then, with no words, she jumped down. Amelie stood by the window, watching her student's progress while the others sat in the empty conference room and talked or fiddled with last minute arrangements to their gear.

The wind from this high up howled and tossed Amelie's hair and it would have chilled her to the bone if she could feel the cold. Laser sharp eyes followed Nina's progress as the clock ran. Nina was no natural on wires. She was clunky and afraid. Not every assassin had to love heights, but a like of it helped greatly. Nina was scared of being this high up, but she was soldiering on, not willing to look stupid in front of her fellow classmates. Amelie could already tell if Nina would be able to make the kill or not given the movement of her wires and the momentum she could force. Nina would be able to do it, but very sloppily.

And Amelie's calculations were correct. Nina returned from the mission, shaking from her fear of heights but with the kill confirmed. When she looked to Amelie for reassurance, the woman didn't meet her eyes. "Next."

Assassin's didn't deserve praise for killing, so no kind words would be given. Not now, not ever. It was a job and nothing more.

Greg clambered up, cocky and intent to kill. He was the true killer among them all. The only one who had combined his passions with his job. "Go," she instructed him and began to count down the minutes. She knew he would have the kill confirmed within three minutes time and he did. He was better than Nina at the wires but not a natural either. Perhaps with time he could be, and then he would share the skies with Amelie. Hm. A twinge of distaste hit her. Seemed she would hate to share the skies with him. They were her's and her's only. She shook that feeling away and focused back on the task.

Once he had made his target, he did a couple of tricks- back flips, twirls- on the wires to which she rolled her eyes at and turned her back on. She didn't have time for his childish hopes in impressing her.

"Lena, you're next." Lena jumped up from her seat, excited to go, but with nervousness underneath it barely concealed.

"I won't disappoint," she said as she passed by Amelie. "Moi cherie." Was whispered and had Amelie choking on her next inhale. She covered it up with a polite cough and simply gestured with her hand to the window. Lena hooked up her wires and saluting Amelie playfully, she jumped down.

Amelie watched the descent and felt like something was off. The tension in the wires...they had been slackened. But...that couldn't be. She had made sure they were tight at the beginning and they wouldn't have loosened so much from only two missions. Just as she narrowed her eyes in suspicion she heard the first snap followed by Lena's scream. Without thinking more on it, Amelie jumped down herself.

The wires had been compromised and Lena was in danger. Right now she was swinging upside down, only one wire holding her. She'd dropped her gun and was scrabbling to fix herself, to get out of this situation. But she wouldn't be able to- nowhere for her to go but a fifty foot drop to concrete. The other wire would collapse. Amelie made her form as stream lined as she could so that she could fall faster. The spools around her waist smoked as they spun out.

Her hair flapped behind her and her eyes watered from the winds but she kept them open and trained on Lena who was trying hard not to panic. "Lena grab my hand!" Amelie called out and held it out because she was coming to the end of her rope. Lena did, their fingers almost touching...and then full grasp just as Lena's other wire gave out. Lena sagged into Amelie's hold as Amelie's descent was rapidly stopped. She could fell her bones jolt and her teeth jarred sharply but all that mattered was that she had saved Lena.

Lena was looking up gratefully at her, blinking back tears, their conjoined hands the only thing holding her up. "Thank you," Lena said softly and Amelie allowed those words to be said, because it was perhaps the first time an assassin had saved someone's life directly instead of taking it.

Amelie flicked the switch on her belt and slowly the mechanics began to pull her up. She shifted her body right side up so she could pull Lena more towards her, the young brunette snuggling up to her chest as Amelie held her bridal style. Their ascent was quiet, Amelie's mind racing a mile a minute and Lena shocked into silence. She knew what had happened. She had turned her back foolishly on Greg, thinking he had been only doing tricks, but he had had another motive. Sabotaging his own classmate.

And for what means?

Would he just kill anyone? He was too dangerous. An assassin that could not be controlled could turn against their own employer. Not to mention he had tried to kill Lena. Amelie found she hated that.

Hated, _hated_ , that.

When they finally made it up to the top, everyone was standing around wondering what had occurred.

"Is everything okay?" Nina asked in a shaking voice no doubt having imagined how that could have been her that it had happened to. No doubt her dislike of heights had heightened.

Amelie set Lena down whose legs were shaking so much she had to take a seat on the carpet, far from the window.

"Clearly neither Lena nor I are dead," Amelie snapped back, her face calm but her voice a tempestuous storm. "These sorts of things do not just occur randomly or often. There is no need to be worried about such dangers on typical missions."

"Well, that's a relief. Sheesh, it could have been me that it could have happened to!" Greg chuckled out darkly and with an over-exaggerated shake of his head.

"Yes," Amelie said evenly as she walked slowly closer to the half circle of her students. "It was a good thing no one was injured." And then she slipped out the knife from her waistband and without warning drove it straight into the fleshy part of Greg's neck.

There were exclaimed gasps of surprise from the girls as Greg's hands came up to his neck as if not able to comprehend that the knife was there. But before he could touch it, Amelie had jerked it out sending blood streaming down his neck. But that wasn't it. She was angry. Angry for the first time in so many years and it all just boiled out of her, burst forth in a homicidal rage. She had never felt this angry before and it felt good. The warm pulse of choler in her veins, the build of it behind her muscles, directing her every motion, and the savage pleasure of reeking harm.

She plunged the knife into his neck over and over again and he stumbled under her thrusts, falling flat on top of the conference table. He was making unintelligible pleas for mercy but he would receive none. How dare he try to hurt Lena? No one got to hurt her and get away with it!

She kept stabbing at him, his neck, his chest, his stomach, anywhere she could. His blood sprayed onto her, coating her chest, her face and her arms. Purple mixing with crimson.

She couldn't even remember on which knife thrust he had finally stopped moving. She just knew when she pulled away she was breathing hard, having forgotten where she even was momentarily. She stepped back, recollecting herself and feeling better than she ever had before. She felt light, felt free.

Salem and Nina were staring at her in open horror. Lena- well Amelie was too afraid to look at her to see what her expression would be. She couldn't bare the judgment in it.

"This is what happens when you think you can get away with sabotaging your fellow classmates," she said at last and then flipping her drenched hair over her shoulders, walked out.


	5. Remember

_"_ Do you know why you are here Amelie?" The director asked, folding his hands on his desk, looking evenly on at her. Inside he was trembling with fear. She had just killed a student of hers. That had never happened before. She had never hurt any one other than her targets in all her years prior. What had changed? Was it time for a tune up?

She could be dangerous now- not that she hadn't before- but now more so than ever. He was afraid to piss her off least she attack him. Thus, he had to go about this conversation carefully. Not too accusing but not too meek either that she wasn't afraid of the repercussions of her actions. He was the one in power here. He was the one who ran a multi million operative. He could order her death as easily one orders a cup of coffee. Still, for all his internal assurances to cajole his confidence, he was afraid of her.

"I am aware  _directeur_ ," Amelie said coolly. "I am here for the murder of Greg." Her face was impassive and it was impossible to tell what was going on in her mind.  _Was_  anything even going on in her mind in the first place?

"Yes, well, it was unauthorized and-"

"I know that," she cut in and he let his mouth flap closed. She had never interrupted him before. "But it needed to be carried out. It became increasingly apparent to me that he was becoming a danger to his classmates and to this organization."

That was the first he had heard of that. "We had no such reports from you-"

"I didn't want to worry you needlessly," she cut in again and the director let out a huff of air. Twice, twice she had interrupted him. Something was wrong with her. She was never this rude.

"And I had hope for him amending his ways with continued guidance. However, he made an attempt on a student's life yesterday and that was the final straw. His actions, that of being unable to value others lives, lead me to the conclusion that he wouldn't hesitate turning against Talon if we started disagreeing with him."

"Yes, but it was all a bit sudden-" for the third time that day he was interrupted.

Amelie stood up at this and with her tall lean frame, the director shrunk back into his seat, sweating under his expensive yet unflattering Armani suit. Money couldn't buy him good looks. "You assigned me to this position because you trusted my expertise and my leadership, correct?" She eyed him hard and he felt like a fly caught in her web. Like he was being tested; the one who was in trouble and not her.

"Y-yes, I did," he stammered out at last.

She gave a curt head nod. "Good, then let me do my job." And with that she left.

The director was left wondering if something had happened to Amelie or not given her odd behavior. He would have to go talk to her doctors about her latest reports.

* * *

Pissed off, Amelie went to the gun range to cool down. She had been feeling angrier as of late- her emotional span either angry or neutral with no in between. She knew she wouldn't have gotten away Scott clean with Greg's murder but she wasn't going to take the fall for it. She had done the right thing even if no one else thought it was. Salem and Nina were now scared of her, and Lena...Lena couldn't even bother up to show to classes anymore. Amelie had tried hunting her down but then thought better of it. Pushing herself onto Lena right now would do no good. It would only force Lena away more. So she let her be and tried to teach her remaining two very jumpy students the rest of the course.

Amelie had a right to feel upset and it mostly had to circle around how Lena was now ignoring her. She couldn't understand why she was upset about this. Amelie had never cared when she had taken a life before, that was her job. Her sole purpose in existence. After all, what is the spider's purpose other than to kill for survival and spin webs to set the murders in?

Then why was she so upset about Lena's snub? By the smaller girl's wordless disappointment?

Growling in rage, Amelie loaded up a gun and began haphazardly shooting at the targets at the gun range. Gunfire was like a soothing song to her ears and she felt satisfaction in the way that the mannequins splintered and burst. When she finally lowered down her steaming gun she let out an unsatisfied growl. She had missed the bulls-eye for everyone of her targets. She had never done that before.

Never.

She was a robot, mechanically hitting each target with deadly accuracy. Not this...not this mess that was off at least half an inch on each object. Snarling with increasing rage she threw the gun, it smacking to the floor with a metallic clang. She needed to get her hands on more, on something else. She grabbed whatever she could- ammo, guns, racks- and threw it on the floor. It was a miracle the gun range was empty or else someone could have gotten badly hurt.

And even if they had Amelie wouldn't have carried. She would have relished in it, would have liked that. At last with the gun range sufficiently thrashed and her heaving great breaths to calm down, she slumped down against the wall, her heart and head hurting because her normally low blood pressure had been elevated past it's norms and she was in pain. Memories floated in and out of her head. Memories of her and Lena.

"You're going to be a solider?" said Amelie's younger and more distraught sounding voice.

"Not just any solider. A special one. One whose going to work to save the world!" Lena said brightly. And there was a glimmer of Lena's face here, eyes closed in joy and lips spread wide in a grin. It disappeared as quickly as it came.

"Moi cherie, I worry for you. It sounds  _dangereux_." Amelie fretted and now a glimpse of an image of a peach colored hand tucking back a spiky strand of Lena's hair. It quickly bounced free. Her locks were so pesky to manage. They made up part of her charm.

"It is not that dangerous. We have a great team looking out for us," Lena assured.

"And what am I supposed to do while you're off saving the world?"

"You could always join me. Make sure I'm safe and have a warm bed to return to at night," Lena said coyly.

"You only need ask me once. I would follow you to the ends of the earth," Amelie said earnestly.

As the memory passed Amelie struggled to hold onto it. What did it mean? Where were these thoughts coming from? Did she somehow know Lena? That didn't make any sense. Amelie had only ever had a husband. She wasn't in love with Lena. She had no past with her.

She only had her husband. The street they both grew up on as kids. The school they both went to as elementary students before parting ways because he had moved away before they meet up in college once more where they dated, fell in love and graduated, shortly getting married after. They had the perfect house with the picket fence and the perfect jobs. They had planned to have kids before he had been killed by Overwatch for his scientific research.

She knew her story. Knew her past. Than why, why,  _why_ , couldn't she recall any memories of it? No images floated in her head. It was silent. And those with Lena had seemed so real. So...true.

She was confused and her head hurt and as she picked up two hands an image hovered over them. An image of normal skin toned hands. But it faded away as quickly as it came and she rubbed her hands over her tired face. There was a pressure building, an unbearable one and as she pulled her hands away she saw there was blood on them.

She was bleeding. But where? And how? Tentatively she felt up her face and saw that the blood was coming from her nose. She had to go stem it but as she got up to her feet her world span and got darker around her. Something was wrong. Something was wrong with her and she didn't know why.

All she knew was that somehow Lena was involved. Surely, she would have to know something about this. Stumbling, Amelie made her way down corridors, lurching down stairs, leaning heavily on the wall leaving it smeared with her blood. Her other hand was cupping her nose and drops of blood would seep through, staining the floors, leaving bread crumbs of her journey. She had a singular goal on her mind, and that was to reach Lena before she passed out.

When she got to Lena's door she slumped heavily onto it, raising her fist to knock on the door with some trouble. She only got one knock in before it became too much work and let her hand fall to her side, stone like.

The door opened a moment later and Lena let out a surprised grunt as suddenly all of Amelie's weight was on her.

"Amelie, what's wrong? What's going on?" Lena panicked but Amelie was already unconscious at the first touch of Lena on her because she knew she was in safe hands.

Meanwhile from their camera feeds, the director and his assistant watched Amelie's rage in the gun range and her pained journey to Lena's room with wariness. "Keep an eye on her," instructed the director. "If she gets worse, than we'll need to send her back to the doctors for another system reboot. We don't want her going rogue and we don't want her regaining her memories no matter what."

A curt nod. "Understood."

* * *

Amelie came into the house, dropping off her work bag. "Lena?" she called out when she didn't see the girl.

"In here!" came the call from the kitchen followed by a huge crash. Amelie arched a brow- that couldn't be good. She strode forwards and saw the counters were covered in bowls and flour. Lena was covered in white flour as well, apron doing little to keep her clean.

"What are you doing?" Amelie mildly gasped out at the mess. She liked her world clean and neat. But Lena gave her a sheepish grin. "I was going to surprise you love, for your first day at work with cupcakes, but uh..." she gestured to the failed attempts lying in a burnt pile in the trash.

Amelie shook her head, unable to remain mad at the brunette's cute attempts.

"Let me help," she entered the kitchen and together the two women finally made an edible batch of cupcakes but not before they had a mini food fight that left flour in Amelie's hair and frosting down her cheek and she found she didn't mind, not at all. Especially not when she had Lena pressed to the sink, cupcakes forgotten by their side because Lena's lips tasted more delicious than any sweet.

…

They don't really know each other in this one. They're just acquaintances at a friends party and they've both had a lot to drink. It prompts them into each others arms and Amelie has forgotten who asked who first. They laugh and giggle and swing off of each others arms to upbeat electro music. Time flies and they're having too much dancing.

Lena, it must have been Lena who asked her to dance, because Amelie even with the drink inside her is not brave enough to step up and ask someone to dance even if that someone is Lena, a girl she enjoys spending time with and would like to know more about.

And then there's a slow song. Slow enough that it forces them to gravitate closer to one another, hold hands and sway from side to side. There's something in the air tonight, something hot and thick and their chests heave as they try to draw air into throats too tight. Amelie's eyes take in Lena's petite features, her hair that is still sharp even in this wilting heat resultant of being trapped in a house with lots of people. She's beautiful and Amelie blames the alcohol in her body for the reason her body thrums in need. And there is no mistaking the hunger in Lena's eyes too, though both are too cowardly to make a move.

Things between them change that night but neither of them knows at first.

…

"Steady, steady your hand more," Lena is behind her, chest pressed to back and hands in a hold on Amelie's thin wrists. "You need to focus on the target." Amelie does, but it's hard to do so when Lena's heat is on her, when Lena is so close. Amelie tries to block out her senses and shoots. She is off by an inch on the straw bag on the field they are in but it's better than her last attempt.

"Good job. Soon you'll be ready to join me on the field," Lena said encouragingly. "And then we're gonna be able to travel all over the world and kick ass together."

Amelie is excited by that. She wants to make sure Lena is safe on her missions. But she knows her road is long. "Maybe in a year. I still have much to learn." And so she raises the gun and keeps aiming and firing until she hits every target point blank. She shoots to protect, not to kill.

…

"Lena! Lena!" frantic cries as Amelie pushes her way through the crowd in the underground base. Paramedics and other trainees are in the halls. Amelie makes it to the front and sees Lena being carried by the shoulders to the clinic. Bloods all over one side of her face and her clothes are ripped and her legs don't work- a dead weight under her.

"Oh  _merde!_  Lena what happened!" Amelie cries out in worry, her worst fear true. But all she gets in answer is a shove and a stern, "get out of the way" before Lena disappears into the clinic.

…

"Violets," Lena thrusts a bouquet of them at Amelie when the french woman opens up the door to her apartment. "I uh, thought they went lovely with your hair color." She flushed but Amelie took the flowers and sniffed them thoughtfully. Usually she got roses on dates-cliche and overdone; these were new and nice.

"I love them. They're unique," she said as she put them into a vase by her door. She extended a hand, nails done to match her black mini dress for this evening.

Lena linked her arm through, dashing in her suit. She looked nervous yet excited at the same time, a feeling Amelie shared. They both wanted this date to go well. And it would, Lena charming and humorous and Amelie attentive and conversational. They got along so well that their first kiss sealed their future. Lena was the first to lean in, having walked Amelie to the door in a courtly manner. But Amelie was the one to deepen it, to leave them both breathless and wanting more.

"See you soon," Amelie whispered against Lena's soft lips, the joy of kissing her fizzing in her stomach like an alcoholic concoction that made her drunk on love.

"Yes," Lena's words a promise of more to come.

….

Bright lights filtered into her vision and her head throbbed in pain. She jerked her hands to move to get up, to do something about her naked and vulnerable form, but her hands stayed put. She was chained down, for whatever reason.

A shadow moved over her and as her eyes adjusted she could make out their white coat with Talon's symbol on it, and the needle in their gloved hand.

She immediately began to shake about in fear, trying mightily to free herself but even her legs were chained down.

"No, stop!" she called out.

"There is no need to worry," the disgusting voice cooed at her. The sharp needle tip glinted in the light. "You won't feel a thing," the doctor said as he lowered the needle right into her frontal lobe, foreboding words on his tongue. "Now or later."

And her world went dark.

* * *

"You're up!" came an excited voice and Amelie was confused, sitting up slowly on a bed that wasn't hers. Where was she? Training kicked in and she hurriedly looked at her wrists and legs to make sure she hadn't been kidnapped and locked up before she scanned the room around her less warily. No, she was at the Talon headquarters and it was only Lena in the room next to her. The brunette was sitting on a chair in comfy sweats, legs crossed and book in her lap.

"You look horrid," she commented and Amelie scowled. She felt sore all over and her nose was full of dry blood so no doubt she did, but still that was a rude thing to say.

"How long was I out for?" Amelie asked as she swung her legs down. She had had a lot of dreams. A lot of dreams that only raised more questions than anything else. Some frightening and others sweet. And Lena had been in almost all of them. So Lena  _must_  know something. The piece of the puzzle Amelie was lacking.

"Only about an hour or two," Lena answered. "How are you feeling? You shouldn't get up."

Amelie stayed sitting. She needed to conserve her energy on this conversation. "Why didn't you take me to the doctors?" The assassin asked this because if her dreams served her right than that meant the doctors here were not her friends. That they had hurt her. That they had made her into this purple skinned freak.

She was too confused to be shocked or to have a world rendering devastation on her character as of yet. She just wanted answers. And if the doctors were truly suspect than Lena's reaction would say as much because Lena knew a hell of a lot more than Amelie did right now.

Lena was hesitant, though she tried hard not to look it. It seemed Lena didn't want to tip Amelie off to anything. Why was this? What was Lena hiding? "I just thought it wasn't that serious. A nose bleed happens to anyone. You just had that and coupled with some stress, you passed out. Your body just needed sleep."

"And are you a doctor to know that?" Amelie suggested, arching her brow. "What if it had been something fatal? And your careless and haughty deductions that it was nothing could have done me serious harm?"

Lena's mouth flapped open and shut but Amelie didn't let her continue saying anything else. "You know information that I am not privy too, Lena. And I know this because of my dreams."

"What? Are you dreaming about me, love?" Lena recovered quickly, cocky grin on her face to hide her unease.

"Now is not the time for jokes," Amelie snapped out, rising to her feet now that she felt steadier. "But the time for truth. Why do I keep remembering you?  _Why?_  And why do I feel? I can feel angry, I can hurt. This isn't how I am."

"But maybe it was how you were," Lena said softly, eyes intense on Amelie. There were cryptic secrets behind each of Lena's words. Behind each of her actions. Amelie could see that now. Nothing had been an accident. Nothing had been casual on Lena's part. Each word and gesture and run in were carefully and meticulously staged, were to lead Amelie into the point of no return, onto a discovery. But why? And what could it be?

"And how  _was_  I, Lena? You seem to know a lot more about me than even I do. Tell me, what is it that you want from me?"

"I only want what you want," she said and it was infuriating that Lena would not say anything outright.

"And if I don't know what I want?" Amelie's nostrils were flaring in anger and she had strode towards Lena, standing above her in the chair.

Lena's voice was a whisper. "But I think you do."

And Amelie's body knew what she wanted even if her mind hadn't comprehended it yet. She was grabbing Lena up by the shirt and suddenly they were kissing. Hungrily, sloppily. Amelie wanted to check if one of her dreams had been right- if this had ever happened between them. And it felt right in ways that Amelie couldn't describe. If there was a checklist for this than it would have met all the boxes.

This proved they had kissed before and not just once but dozens and dozens of times. Kisses an easy currency on their tongues used to convey their emotions. And if that dream was true- the one in the kitchen with cupcakes and lips meeting lips sweetly, or the one where they shared their first kiss on Amelie's doorstep- then it meant all of the others had been as well. It was a revelation Amelie would dissect later, for now her mind and senses were focused on a more important matter. The feel of Lena on her. The smell of her. The warmth of her against Amelie's cold flesh.

And while Lena's lips at first had been frozen in shock at Amelie's bold actions, they came to life like they had been jump started. Their lips found their long forgotten rhythm engaging in a primal dance of love and lust and desire. Soon Lena's hands tangled their way into Amelie's hair, pulling and tugging at the roots in a spine tingling manner. And Amelie's hands circled to the small of Lena's back pulling her in.

They kissed for what felt like years but seconds at the same time, finally pulling apart for air. Amelie couldn't believe she had just done that. Her heart was pounding in her chest like it was alive for the first time in forever, and she was almost giddy if not for the fear of the consequences of what she had just done.

"If you tell anyone we kissed, I'll kill you." And that wasn't an idle threat coming from Amelie.

Yet, Lena was nonchalant about it. "Sure," she grinned, looking brighter than a firework and looking for the world like her problems had been solved. She pressed a chaste kiss onto Amelie's lips before making space between them.

Amelie slipped out of Lena's room, fussing with her hair to make it neater and so it could look less like delicate yet rough hands had raked right through it. Amelie left the brunette's room more confused and clear headed than she had been before. Despite that, she knew that whatever she had discovered had only begun and not ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I had a kiss scene originally planned for way later on but the chapter just wrote itself like this so uh, enjoy.


End file.
